Four Of A Kind

Chapter 102: [3.4] I’m Just a Ball in Their Billion-Dollar Game of Romantic Tennis

The bizarre burst of school spirit from a man who normally embodied apathy was too much for my sleep-deprived brain to process. I put my head back down on the desk, tuning out Patterson’s increasingly manic description of previous years’ winning booths.

“Dude, did someone replace Patterson with a pod person?” Felix whispered.

“Probably,” I mumbled.

“What do you think the prize is? Money? A party? Maybe a trip somewhere cool?”

“Probably a pizza party worth about $5 per student that the school will mark up to $20 in their budget.”

“Always the optimist,” Felix sighed. “Hey, how was your weekend with the Valentine sisters anyway? You never said.”

I lifted my head slightly, catching sight of Cassidy across the room. She was looking directly at me, her expression unreadable. When our eyes met, she immediately looked away, her face turning that distinctive shade of pink again.

Next to her, Harlow twisted in her seat to glance back at me, offering a small wave and a smile that seemed…different. Still bright, but with something else behind it. Something thoughtful.

“My weekend,” I said slowly, “was troublesome.”

Felix followed my gaze between the two Valentine sisters. “Uh-oh. What happened? Did you upset the princesses? Are you getting fired? Dude, please tell me you’re not getting fired. That car is too nice to lose.”

“I don’t know what happened,” I admitted. “That’s the problem.”

“That makes no sense.”

“I know.”

I put my head back down on the desk. The cool surface did nothing to help the chaotic tangle of thoughts in my mind.

One of the four identical Valentine sisters had kissed me on the steps of their mansion. One of them had made a choice that could potentially end my employment, jeopardize my ability to pay rent, and destroy Iris’s chances at Hartwell. One of them had decided that whatever existed between us was worth risking all of that.

And I had no idea which one.

Mr. Patterson continued his enthusiastic speech, now pacing back and forth in front of the blackboard. “We could do a food booth, a game booth, a performance—the options are unlimited! This is our year, 3-A! Our moment!”

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I slipped it out under the desk, keeping one eye on Patterson.

A message from Vivienne: Regarding our discussion yesterday. Your input was surprisingly insightful. You made me consider certain things I hadn’t before. Thank you.

I stared at the text. Vivienne Valentine thanking me? Acknowledging that I had made her think? This was unprecedented. Was this a clue?

Another message, this one from Sabrina: The library at 3. Bring Monte Cristo. We can compare notes.

What notes? We hadn’t discussed anything about the book. Was this Sabrina’s cryptic way of telling me something?

I looked up from my phone, across the room where Harlow was now passing a note to Cassidy, who was reading it with increasing agitation.

Cassidy scribbled something back and shoved the paper at Harlow, whose eyes widened before she stifled a giggle.

Both sisters glanced back at me simultaneously, then at each other, before quickly looking away.

Whatever game they were playing, I was clearly the ball being batted around.

Felix elbowed me. “Hey, they’re staring at you again. What did you do to them?”

“Nothing,” I said automatically.

“Uh-huh. That’s why they keep looking at you like that. Listen, if you got caught in the middle of some weird rich-girl Valentine sister drama, you need to bail immediately. Those girls are like hurricanes in uniform.”

“Too late,” I muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Mr. Patterson clapped his hands together. “Alright! Everyone think about booth ideas, and we’ll reconvene after lunch. Remember: this is our year!”

The bell rang, signaling the end of homeroom. As students began to file out, I noticed Cassidy lingering by her desk, taking an unusually long time to pack her bag. When the crowd thinned, she approached my desk with deliberate steps.

“Hey,” she said, her voice carrying a forced casualness. “About yesterday.”

My heart rate doubled instantly. “Yes?”

Cassidy’s eyes darted around to make sure no one was listening. Felix had already headed for the door, leaving us relatively alone.

“The tutoring,” she said. “I did those problems you gave me. Seven out of ten. Again.”

The strange mixture of disappointment and relief that washed over me was ridiculous. “That’s good,” I managed. “You’re making real progress.”

She pushed a folded piece of paper across my desk. “Here.”

I took it carefully. “What’s this?”

“Questions I had. About the quadratics.” She tucked a strand of wine-red hair behind her ear. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. I just…thought it would be more efficient.”

I unfolded the paper. There were indeed math questions written in her surprisingly neat handwriting. At the bottom, in smaller writing, was a completely different question:

Are we good?

I looked up at her. “Yes,” I said. “We’re good.”

She nodded once, her face coloring slightly. “Good. Because you’re still gonna lose the bet, and I’m going to destroy you at tutoring today.”

With that, she turned and stalked out of the classroom, her uniform skirt swinging with each step.

I carefully folded the paper and put it in my pocket, more confused than ever. Was this Cassidy’s way of confirming she was the one on the steps? Or was she actually asking if we were good after our conversation in my room the night before the kiss?

I gathered my books and headed for the door, stopping when I noticed Harlow still at her desk, apparently waiting for me.

“Isaiah,” she said, dropping the “Assistant-kun” nickname she usually insisted on. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

She fidgeted with the hem of her uniform skirt. “Do you think… I mean… is everything okay? With us?”

I blinked. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“No reason!” She brightened too quickly. “Just checking! You seemed so tired this morning, and you were looking at me and Cassidy all weird, and I just wanted to make sure everything was super good between all of us.”

“Everything’s fine,” I said, watching her face for any hint. “I just didn’t sleep well.”

“Oh! Well, that’s easy to fix! You should try the lavender spray I use on my pillows. It knocks me right out!” She hopped up from her seat. “Anyway, I’d better get to class. See you at lunch?”

Before I could answer, she darted forward and gave my arm a quick squeeze, then practically skipped out of the room.

I stood there for a long moment, alone in the classroom except for Mr. Patterson, who was still writing booth ideas on the board with unsettling enthusiasm.

Four sisters. Four messages. Four different interactions this morning.

And exactly zero answers about which one had decided to turn my carefully organized life into a complete disaster with a single kiss.